Cocoon
by QueenSeer161
Summary: Separated from her group after a traumatic event, a pregnant Laura searches to find the people she lost while struggling to survive on her own. What happens when the first people she encounters are not her own, but a small group of travelers with a common enemy? Warning: Mentions of past rape.
1. Alone

**A/N:** Hello! Welcome to my latest story. The OC (Laura) is of my own invention. Be warned, this story contains mentions of and allusions to past rape, but no explicit or graphic descriptions. Also, this story contains spoilers for events in season 4 and season 5.

The story will be 11 chapters long and there may be a follow-up story set around the end of season 5 and season 6, depending on how people receive this one. Please R&R and let me know what you think, what you like and don't like, what you agree with or don't! I am curious to know your thoughts. And most importantly, enjoy!

* * *

Before the world ended, there used to be those people that said a pregnancy can never result from rape. The body's just too traumatized to allow the egg to fertilize or something like that, they said. Well, I for one, can tell you _that_ is bullshit. I know. Because it happened to me.

They had a code. "Claiming" they called it. It meant something. But claiming only means _first dibs_ when it comes to women. We are a rare enough commodity that everyone gets a piece. The only thing that "claimed" settles is who gets the first and freshest slice. In my case, it was a man named Joe that claimed me that day.

When he was through, the others got their chance. Most of it is hazy now. I still remember the pain. And the fear. I wasn't afraid of dying. No, I was afraid the others in my group would find me while the men still had me. I was afraid the men would try and claim or kill the rest of my group. My friends. My roommate. My _brother_. I couldn't let it happen. So I lied. I told them I was alone. I told them I wouldn't fight – I'd make it real nice for them if they just let me live afterwards.

Joe stood by his word, but not until he let his boys beat me bloody when they'd finished.

But I was alive. I remember Joe's hazy face in my line of sight when it was over, just before I passed out on the ground. "See? I'm a man of my word."

I never found my group again after that day. By the time I cleaned myself up, found some clothes, and made my way to camp, the group was gone. Walkers had attacked, by the looks of it, and I could see where footsteps led off into the forest. I followed them for a while, then night fell and the rains came. I slept in a tree that night. By morning, the tracks were gone. I wandered alone for a while, in clear violation of rule number 1 (never go anywhere alone). But I didn't have a choice anymore.

I should probably explain – my group had a code, too. It was more like a set of rules. We stuck together in groups, no one went anywhere alone. That was rule #1. That day Joe found me, I wasn't alone, even though I told him I was. I said it loud and clear. I said it so my companion on the run would hear. I said it so that she wouldn't get herself seen. The men in Joe's group were dangerous, that at least was clear. And at least, knowing my group was gone when I returned to camp, I knew that there was a chance that they were safe.

I looked for them for a while – almost three months in fact. I scouted a pretty wide perimeter, but it was slow going on my own. I was injured, still healing, and the only people I found in all those months were dead. I did, however, manage to make myself a decent camp, scavenged supplies, and even a gun, and when I felt strong enough, I made a run to the pharmacy – the one where Joe had found me.

The building gave me the creeps. I shuddered, as the memory of all those eyes and guns on me came flooding back. But I pressed on. I didn't need a test to tell me I was pregnant. Three months of nausea and lack of period had given it away, as did the hardening in my lower abdomen. What I needed, though, was food, vitamins, and a hell of a lot more water.

Finally stocked, I decided to strike out, search for survivors, and maybe, if I was lucky, find my group again. Another month passed. I was completely on my own.

* * *

The day I went shopping for maternity clothes was the day I finally saw my first living human in over 4 months. I'd gotten pretty far north from where I'd started, and I'd found myself a little boutique in a town that looked, for the greater part, deserted. I tread slowly and quietly, my scavenged camp axe at the ready. The door was locked but a window was broken. Wrapping my hand in a dirty t-shirt, I broke enough of the glass to get the door unlocked and slipped inside.

One eye always looking over my shoulder, I quickly rummaged through the shop, finding a pair of pants with a stretchy waist and a couple of shirts designed to stretch with a mother's belly. Nothing too loose – no dresses either. I needed clothes I could move in, but a walker couldn't grab itself onto easily. Putting them up against myself, I figured they would work and stuffed them quickly into my bag. I found a few more pieces that looked more or less my size and took those, too. I'd sort out what I was taking later on.

That's when I heard it. That's when I heard the laugh. I ducked quickly, hiding behind a clothing rack and waited, breath hitched.

"Here we are boys. Home for the night." It was Joe. I closed my eyes tightly, and for the first time in a very long time, I prayed. I prayed they wouldn't find me there, prayed that they would just get off the street.

And that's when I heard the gurgling moans. From the back of the shop, a walker came hissing, moaning and squelching as it limped, bowlegged, towards the front of the shop. I didn't move. I didn't breathe. My grip tightened on the camp axe.

"Somethin' wrong, Daryl?" I heard Joe say.

Then, after a moment, I heard a gruff, gravelly voice. _Daryl_ apparently. "Naw – just a walker." The voice was close. He was just outside the window I had broken. I heard him test the door. It opened. Footsteps. Then, the thwack of a bowstring. I knew that sound. One of my people, back from my former group, she'd been an archer as a kid. She used a bow herself, never liking the feel of a gun, and it was useful for sure.

Without a sound, I stayed crouched on the ground, one hand planted and ready to use as leverage to scoot around the corner of the rack. _Go_ , I prayed, _just go_. Instead, the bowman moved, taking swift steps to the Walker. As he put his boot on the ugly thing's face, and yanked his arrow out of its skull, I ducked as quick as I could around to the side of the rack. I winced at the sound of hangers knocking together. _Shit_ , I cursed myself. _Shit, shit, shit._

For a moment, all was silent, but then I heard the steps approach slowly, almost cautiously.

Axe at the ready, I waited for him to approach. Waited for the sound of the cocking gun, or the sound of the knife unsheathing.

The footsteps stopped. I turned my head just enough to bring him into my line of sight. He was looking at me, bow pointed and ready. I felt my skin go cold. Daryl's eyes ran over me quickly, like he was sizing me up.

"Daryl – you all right in there?" called Joe. He was closer than before. Maybe approaching. _Shit._

Fear – heart-wrenching, throat-closing fear – gripped my chest and stopped my breath. My eyes widened. They darted towards the door and back at Daryl. I raised my axe. He took a step back, his bow still aimed at me.

He opened his mouth and I waited for it, waited for that horrible word. _Claimed_.

Instead, he lowered his bow. Still looking my way, he turned his body away and shouted, "Yeah. Thought I heard somethin'. S'nothin'." Then, he finally turned his eyes away and stalked towards the door. He opened it, and left, letting it swing closed behind him. I let out a shaky breath into my hand, and stifled the sound of relief.

I gave them until the count of 10 to turn their backs to me, then without looking again, slipped across the floor, behind the clothes, into the back to hide. I had to bring down two walkers with my axe, but it was worth it to avoid the front. Joe would have a lookout, I was sure of it. Normally I'd have stayed in the store overnight. Instead, I waited until dark to slip out the back.

By leaving after sundown I was breaking Rule #2 – never go out after dark. But the way I saw it, I had little choice. Joe and his group were far more dangerous than the walkers, and I needed the cover of night to get away from the bigger threat.

I didn't know why the man named Daryl had not revealed me. Part of me wanted to believe that maybe he was not at all like the rest. Part of me, though, was afraid he might have had something worse in store for me if I stayed. I managed to make it a few miles into the woods, guided by moonlight, before the sun finally rose.


	2. Catharsis

**A/N:** Hi everyone! And thanks so much for reading. Just a reminder and specific warning for this chapter, the chapter contains reference to past rape, as well as descriptions of violence and death similar to what has been seen/done on the show. I definitely appreciate ALL reviews. And any feedback, good or bad, is greatly appreciated. 9 more chapters to go, and I will be updating frequently, so stay tuned!

* * *

It was only a few days after my close call with Joe that I ran into my second sign of living people since the day I lost my group. A gunshot rang out while I walked along the tree-line of a road that ran near the train tracks. The sound seemed to be coming from up ahead. Going back just wasn't an option. Not with Joe's group out there somewhere, and going forward meant there were people – _human people_ – that might be in trouble.

Maybe even _my_ people. And really, that's what drove me farther into the woods, into the cover of the trees, and moving swiftly along the ground, one hand gripping tightly to my axe, and the other hugging the small swell of my belly. That gunshot could have been from one of my people.

I could hear the shouts over my heavy breaths and peaked around the trees. My eyes widened. It was Joe, with his arms pinning a man. One of his men had a gun to a woman's temple. Another was pinning a boy to the ground. And on the other side of the car, the side that was closest to me, a group of three was brutally beating a guy I couldn't see.

"What are ya gonna do now, _Sport_?" Joe taunted.

I will admit, my instinct then was to run, to leave these people to their fate because now really, what could I do alone, with nothing but an axe and three little bullets in my gun?

But then guy Joe had, to my horror, reared back, lunged his jaw forward, and bit, taking a chunk of flesh from Joe's neck.

The guys were stunned. I was stunned. And in that second, the woman knocked away the second gun, the guy they'd been beating on turned the tables and landed a solid punch, and that's when I recognized the scruffy guy from the store.

My mind was set. The tables were turning, and it was now or never.

Hatchet in hand, I burst from the woods, sprinted straight for the guy at Daryl's back, and with a howl, grabbed his arm and swung as hard as I could. It caught him in the face. He screamed and fell, I pulled the hatchet back, and even through the thick slice in his flesh, I recognized him. I gritted my teeth, the flush of anger rising throughout my body.

"How's it _taste_ , bitch," I growled, spitting his words right back at him. His one unaffected eye widened with horror and, I'd like to think, recognition, just as I swung the camp axe down again, splitting his face down the middle. I wasn't sure it was deep enough to keep him from turning, but it was enough to make him pass out quickly. I tugged on the axe, feeling it stick.

I tugged again, just as someone grabbed my shirt from behind. It was a split second. I opened my mouth to cry out in shock. Nothing came out but a high-pitched squeal. Again, that familiar thwack, and I felt the person behind me fall, his grip pulling me with him. I fought his grip on me and a knife, dragged by the weight of the falling body, sliced a superficial cut along my side.

I turned, twisting away from the blade, to see the guy fall dead, an arrow through his temple. I looked up at Daryl – the guy that Joe had once called Daryl – and with a new determined set in my jaw, I put both hands on the axe and pulled it free.

I went straight for Joe. He was still gurgling on the ground and writhing while the woman held the boy, and while the man with the blood on his face was stabbing the big fat pig of a man whose name I never knew. I stood looking down on the man who'd staked his claim upon me once.

I've heard it said it's best not to look in their eyes. Killing a person is something that never leaves you if you look them in the eyes, but for me this wasn't killing. It was catharsis. Yes, it broke Rule #3 – never be driven by thoughts of revenge or anger – but here and now, whatever happened would be worth it just so Joe would know who killed him – it was _me_. I was here to do karma's bidding, and karma, she's a bitch.

I raised my axe, and knees bent, I brought it down, splitting his forehead in two, just in time for the man with the knife to turn around and notice me there. Long enough for Daryl to come up around the broken down car. Long enough for the dreadlocked woman to usher the boy into that car's back seat. Hocking back snot and saliva I spit on Joe, right on his face, and watched the fluid tangle in his beard. He was dead.

I stumbled back, took a few back-steps and heaving breaths and wiped the sweat from my cheek with the back of my shaking, bloody hand. I raised my eyes, and realizing for the first time I was alone with two armed men, I raised my axe and stepped back, my other hand moving for my gun. I looked warily at the bloody man with the knife, and then at Daryl, and then at the bloody man again. Daryl, though, quickly stepped between me and the other man.

"Woah woah woah," said Daryl gruffly. He raised his crossbow and his hands in surrender. "Nobody's gonna hurt ya, girl. You can put that down, yeah?"

I looked into his eyes, and though I saw something hard and beaten there, I had to believe he was telling the truth. He'd once had the perfect chance to hurt me. To kill me. To _claim_ me.

But he hadn't. He'd saved me once.

I swallowed hard, lowered my axe, and nodded. I believed him. I don't know why I should, but I did.

I don't know why it made a difference, either, but deciding to trust he wouldn't kill me released the tension in my shoulders. The stress fell off of me like a heavy coat in summer. All the fear and fight or flight that I'd been carrying with me ever since that day in the store – hell, ever since that day _four months_ ago – I felt it leave me now. For a second it left me. And though I stood there gasping for breath from the exertion, I felt a spark of hope in my chest.

Everything was cool, and Daryl lowered both his hands and nodded back, a knowing look in his narrowed eyes. My axe was still in my hand, but that was necessity. Walkers could have heard us from miles around, and I'd be damned if I was going to put my axe away.

I turned my back on Daryl first, stumbling over to a tree before leaning against it, and slid down to the ground to properly catch my breath. Daryl, for his part, seemed almost anxiously focused on the bloody man with the knife and gently disarmed him, then led him around the car. I watched from a distance as he set the trembling man down and tried to talk to him.

"Rick," he said quietly. "Rick, can you hear me?"

I turned away. This wasn't my group, these weren't my people, and though I'd gladly lent a hand to see that Joe and his merry band of dicks would pay, I felt like I was intruding on something private. Instead, I closed my eyes. I listened hard for the sounds of feet or moaning, and tried, as my breath and heart calmed down, to feel out any injuries I might have suffered.

My legs ached from the sprint, but it was the sharp stab in my side that got my attention. Now the adrenaline was steadily wearing off, I felt the break in the skin. I winced and looked down at the blood soaking my shirt. I couldn't tell how bad it was, or just how much of it was mine. I lifted the shirt to check the wound but it was hard to see in the dark. Using the axe for leverage on the ground, I pulled myself up. I needed my pack – needed the supplies I'd left in the trees across the road.

I swapped the axe to my dominant hand, as I walked, a few yards down the street from the car, and put up my left as I padded across the road to signal the lack of threat to the bow-man. Clearly, though, he took it as something more. "You leavin'?" he ground out in a loud whisper. I turned on my heel. I could see the confusion in his face – the challenge.

I swallowed, looked at the woods, then back at him. "Should I be?" I asked.

After a long silent moment he shrugged and turned his eyes back to his man. "Up ta you."

I nodded, even though he wasn't looking at me.

I headed into the woods, just beyond the edge of the road, and sought out the tree where I'd left my pack. I found it, grabbed the strap, and dragged it out onto the road and towards the fire. It had burned almost down to nothing, but I doubted the group would mind me reviving it a bit. With a stick, I poked at the ash beneath the twigs, freeing up space for oxygen and helping the fire to start back up. I wanted to check my wound, but it wouldn't do me well if any bodies came to life, so with my axe in hand, I headed to the opposite side of the car from Daryl and Rick. I glanced into the window of the car, not intending to be a snoop, but I could see the woman – the one with long black dreadlocks – staring intently back at me. I looked away.

Starting with the pig was the easiest. I call him that because of what he reminded me of. His looks, the way he snorted and oinked and spread his grease and grime all over my back as he'd bucked like a rutting boar…

I leered angrily as I toed him in the head. The knife-wound was clear as day, but an extra slice for good measure wouldn't hurt. I brought the axe down several times on his bloated face before I moved on to the next. This one I didn't recognize. A new one, maybe. Who knew? He wasn't one of the ones that took me, but there was no need to crack his skull. The bullet had done it for sure.

Though I'd split Joe's head myself, I couldn't resist a few hard kicks to his groin as I passed, even though the movement tugged at my side and made the cut hiss angrily and burn. I bent over, my hand pressing on my side, to catch my breath, then straightened.

Finally I got to the other one I'd put down, the one who'd liked to make me choke and gag. I wasn't satisfied with the gashes, so I bend down next to him, and using my legs, rolled him onto his side and stomach. Raising my axe, I aimed it at the soft base of his skull and brought it down with punishing weight. The skull split, spraying brains and fluid like a damn fountain and spotting my glasses. I could taste the iron on my lips.

"Choke on that," I sneered, though the words stayed under my breath. I only glanced a brief moment at Daryl as I stepped over the man he'd saved me from, and once I saw the last guy – with an arrow through his eye, I turned around, heading back to my bag and to the fire to clean myself up.


	3. Questions

**A/N:** Hello again! I've been updating daily so far and will try to keep up this pace. I'd love to get your thoughts in a review - good or bad - so please don't be shy! Either way, thanks for reading. Chapter 4 of 11 coming soon.

* * *

Water was one thing I couldn't live without – that and iodine or bleach to disinfect it with when starting a fire was out of the question. Luckily, I had iodine this time, and I soaked the cleanest cotton rag I had with water first.

Sitting on the log beside the fire, hidden from view of the men by the front of the car, I lifted my shirt and pulled down the waist on my pants to clean the blood from my side. Then, after wetting the other end of the rag with iodine, I wiped it across the cut.

The wound was superficial, nothing close to requiring stitches, and the bleeding had already stopped. But I would be lying if I told you I didn't feel a spike of fear through me now that I had time to assess the damage and the location of the wound. What if he'd actually stabbed me? What if the cut had just been _deeper?_ I could have died. _We_ could have died. And that was not a happy thought.

I was dragged out of it, though, by a voice beside me. "You all right?"

I nodded shortly, and quickly dropped my shirt before looking up. "Fine," I said, "just a scratch."

"Name's Daryl."

I knew that of course.

"Laura," I responded. Then, after a second, I asked him quietly, "Are _you_ ok? They wailed on you pretty bad." He nodded. I didn't press.

"I've got iodine. F'you need. Not much left, but I can spare a bit," I offered, "for you or the others." When he said nothing, I held out a bottle of murky water. "Or water. S'clean. Might taste a bit funny. S'just the iodine."

He didn't take it right away, but didn't say he had his own either. After a moment, I sighed, unscrewed the top, tipped it to my lips and drank a few large gulps of water myself. I wiped my mouth with my hand. Eyes on the fire, I put the top back on. After a minute, I glanced back at Daryl. He was still looking at me, then at the bottle. Taking another chance, I tried again, silently offering him the bottle. Finally, he took it.

"Thanks," he said.

I let out a breath and nodded. "S'the least I can do," I said. "You saved my ass."

He shrugged one shoulder. "You saved mine."

I raised my brows, surprised he'd even say such a thing. "I wouldn't go that far. I think you'd a had it under control. Anyway, you might not remember, but I ain't talkin' 'bout today." I let my eyes wander back to Daryl's face. I felt a blush rise in my cheeks, not for any reason except that I felt like his eyes were looking straight into my soul.

"You were afraid o'me," he said in his gravelly voice. "In that store."

So he did remember.

My eyes cut away and to the ground. I shook my head. "Not _you_ ," I told him, my tone a hushed whisper. I was ashamed to admit it. I was ashamed to admit my fear, but I had so much more to lose this time around. I looked at Daryl, then nodded my chin at the nearest corpse. " _Them._ Joe. His people. You were with them," I tried explaining.

Daryl, it seemed, had the good sense to look ashamed of himself, but he also looked angry as hell.

Daryl didn't say anything. Instead, he just stood, clearing his throat and grabbing his bow. I noticed, though, that he left the now half-empty bottle of water here with me.

I watched as Daryl started to clear the bodies off the road one by one. I set about repacking my supplies, then stood and dusted off my pants.

The windows to the car were transparent. I glanced at the woman, and though I might normally have walked up to her and offered to help, something about her made me rethink that impulse. It was her eyes – they reminded me far too much of a lioness with her cub, so I looked away.

I decided instead to walk a bit and stretch my legs at least. I'd felt bad not offering to help to drag the bodies, but I'd already done enough to stress my system. I decided it was best not to bother Rick, who seemed to be in some state of shock. I decided to just begin by walking perimeters and listening out for walkers. It was what we'd done at my camp, before we'd been separated, and it seemed smart given all those gunshots we'd let ring.

Daryl, it seemed, was dragging the bodies one by one to the edge of the road, and dumping them into the woods, clearing the street for when the kid woke up, I assumed. It was good. Daryl was good. And as I passed him on my rounds, he looked at me and I looked back. I stopped when I realized he was walking towards me.

"Them people – they had supplies not far from here. Guns, food, clothes."

I nodded. He didn't have to tell me he knew where they were. He'd been with them, after all. "I'll help you get 'em," I promised. My body ached and I needed sleep, but I'd already made a choice. I was staying with these people until it was light. At the very least, staying in a group would keep me safe until the sun could rise again. Even if it meant I wouldn't sleep. But if I wasn't going to sleep, I should at least stay busy.

He nodded. "All right," he said. "Let's go." Worry niggled at the base of my spine. I didn't like the idea of going off alone with this stranger, even if I did believe he had no plans to kill me.

He crossed the street and headed back to the car, snatching up his bow. I followed behind him, keeping as quiet as I could manage. He led me a good fifty paces from the camp. As we approached what must have been a clearing, hissing, growling noise reached my ears and a twig snapped. Both of us turned, Daryl aiming his bow in the direction of the approaching walker.

It was a woman, dressed in dirty rags that matched the grey of her skin.

"I got it," I whispered.

Crouching low, I stalked a few yards to my left actually ducking out of the view of the walker and letting her move towards Daryl. Moving swiftly, I rounded on it, coming up behind. With a swing of my axe I knocked it to the ground. Then I gripped the axe with both my hands and brought it down on the skull, splitting it open like rotten wood.

I freed my axe, and grimaced at the squelch and the putrid odor, then with a shake, freed the blood and brains from the blade.

Daryl dropped his bow, and without a word, he turned, leading me on toward Joe's campsite. It was a lot of stuff, and without a word, Daryl started sorting through it, bagging up what would be useful and discarding the rest. Me, I went straight to overturning the bedrolls, and to my delight, found a gun one of those fuckers had hidden there. I checked the magazine, and then the slide, finding it empty. I popped the full magazine back in the pistol and tucked the gun into my belt.

I looked up to catch Daryl watching me. He turned away and back to packing his supplies. I walked over to watch. "That all you takin'?" he asked when he looked up.

After a moment, I told him harshly, "I don't need anything else from them." I wouldn't have taken anything at all if I'd been able to manage it, but with my own gun down to just three rounds, I couldn't risk my life out of stubbornness. What good was biting my nose to spite my face?

Instead I just watched as Daryl worked extra water bottles and food into one bag, and a bunch of different sized clothes into another. When Daryl was finished packing the useful supplies into a backpack and two duffels, he looked at me, then after thinking about it, handed me the bag with the clothes. I took it, but set it on the ground. "Give me another," I said, holding my hand out for another bag.

He didn't, and I elaborated, "You're better with the walkers than me. I'll carry the bigger load, you keep those things away from me while I do it." For a second, he studied me, but finally handed over the other small duffel.

I wasted no time in adjusting the straps and pulling them over my head, loading the heavier bag first, and then the lighter, so both were resting on the backs of my hips. One bag settling just below the other. Daryl gave me a second to adjust the straps across my chest, and when I finished, I took a few experimental steps, then jumped a few times in place. They weighed me down, but in this position, didn't restrict my movement much. I exhaled a breath and nodded. I was ready. And I was putting my life in Daryl's hands, even if the hike was only 50 paces South/Southwest.

As it turned out, we didn't encounter a single creature, dead or alive, on our swift return to camp. Daryl, though, stuck with me, arrow raised and ready to fire. I could tell he was more alert, like he took his job of protecting the _both_ of us quite seriously. I supposed it made sense – I was doing him a favor – but still. I felt like there was something more to it.

* * *

With the supplies sorted, and the clothes put to use covering up the windows of the car, Daryl and I sat in relative silence, staring at the flames. Every minute or so, I poked and prodded the ashes. It was early morning now. The moon was sinking down beneath the trees and soon – probably three or four hours from now, the sun would finally rise.

Out of nowhere, Daryl commented gruffly, "No sense in two of us staying awake." I turned my head. He was still watching the fire, not looking directly at me. I turned my own eyes back on the fire.

"How's your man?" I asked, referring, of course, to the man called Rick.

Daryl didn't answer for a long moment. Then he finally said, "He'll be all right." I'd seen him check on Rick again when we'd returned from our little stroll.

Another few minutes passed in total silence. I rested my arms on my knees and just watched the small flames dance in front of me.

"You on yer own?" Daryl asked. I looked at him. Then, after deciding there was no malice in the question, I simply nodded.

"How many walkers have you killed?"

My brow knitted at the question. "I – have no idea. Dozens. Hundreds, maybe. You?"

He shrugged, "Too many to count."

I thought that was the end of the conversation. For a moment he just said nothing, then he asked me another question. "How many people you kill?"

This question caused my brow to furrow further. "Today, two," I answered, growing defensive.

"What about before today?"

"Why are you asking me this?"

"How many in total?" he insisted, though his voice was calm and patient.

I bristled, but looking him in the eye, I answered, "Two. _Total._ "

"Why?"

My jaw tightened. " _Why?_ Because they were bad people and they fucking deserved it," I ground out in response, "Because they're worse than those _things_ that try to eat us." I gestured at the woods with my axe. "You were with them. Are you seriously asking me _why_?"

Daryl's face tightened. He stared at the fire, obviously mulling something over. After a moment of glaring at him I huffed and looked away towards the fire. For another minute of silence, I just let my anger stew.

"They threatened my friends," he said, almost too quiet for me to hear. "Only people ever gave a damn about me 'cept my brother." I looked at him, surprised by the sudden revelation.

He continued, "I dunno how much you heard. But Michonne, Carl, they were gonna….and Rick. They'd a killed Rick. Killed me, too. I've seen 'em kill for less."

I stared, starting to feel a little ashamed of myself for being quite so defensive. Slowly, the anger started seeping away. I swallowed thickly and nodded. I knew what he was saying. I knew what these men were capable of. "I know."

After a moment of silence, I asked him a question that burned over in my mind ever since I'd first laid eyes on him in the street. "How long were you with them?"

Daryl looked away. "Not long. Five days. Maybe six."

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding and nodded. "You ever – c-claim anyone? Or seen anyone claimed?" I asked. I wasn't sure if I wanted to know. But honestly, I had to. I forced myself to look at him, and the momentary confusion crossing his face was answer enough.

"Anyone. You mean like – claim a _person?_ " he asked. I could see understanding and disgust bloom on his face, followed quickly by realization.

He didn't have to ask me how I knew about the claiming, or how I knew that Joe's group laid their claim on people as well as things. It was like the questions were in his head and answered before he could ask. "That's what they done to you." It was a statement, not a question.

I looked away, aiming the daggers in my narrowed eyes at my boot, instead of a man who didn't deserve them. "All that matters is you didn't do it. You wouldn't have. You aren't like them," I said with a shae of my head. "That's all I needed to know."

"You thought I was."

"In that store a few days back? Yeah. I did," I told him honestly.

"You don't anymore."

My eyes glanced sideways to look at his. "No," I told him, "I don't."


	4. Choice

**A/N:** I just want to take a moment and say "thanks" to all of you who followed/favorited this story. I'm so glad to know people are reading. If you get a chance, drop me a review as well. I'd like to know what you think of Laura and her story so far? Is there anything you're specifically curious about or hoping to see? Let me know! And as always, enjoy. :)

* * *

The next day, I woke up with the grey light of dawn. Daryl convinced me to rest, that he'd keep watch, and I'd been so exhausted I finally couldn't refuse any longer. I shivered and pulled my sleeping bag tighter around me.

I lay in my bag, huddled close against the truck, and listened to Daryl speak to Rick. "I didn't know what they could do…."

I took a slow breath and closed my eyes tight. In my lower abdomen, I felt a tiny flutter. I placed my hand on my stomach, took another deep breath, and felt another flutter. I had no idea if I was right, if this was really the life inside me growing and moving, but it certainly felt more encouraging than telling myself "it's just gas."

When it sounded like Rick and Daryl were finally finished with their talk, I moved myself, sitting up slowly and, after using my hands to smooth my greasy hair and retie the bun, sliding easily out of the bag. Wasting no time, I pulled on my boots and tied them. Then, I rolled up my sleeping bag, and checked behind my back to see that Daryl, and now Rick, had started taking notice of me and my movements. I attached the bag to my pack, then reached inside for my dented pot and a ziplock bag of oatmeal. Rekindling the fire, I poured some water into the pot and held it over the fire to warm it. Then, I poured the oatmeal in. Instant – apple-cinnamon flavored. I stirred it up, and looked up to see both Daryl and Rick accompanying me at the fire.

Rick looked uncertain, almost hostile. His face was no longer smeared as badly with Joe's blood, but it still wasn't clean. I tasted a bit of the oatmeal. It was stale as usual, but it was warm and it was something. I spooned a bit more into my mouth as Rick and Daryl took a seat. Not really sure what to say, I opted for simple and direct. "I'm Laura. I have some food. If you like." Setting my spoon in the pot, I offered the handle out to Rick. He glanced at Daryl, who nodded, and Rick then took it gratefully.

"Rick," he offered. "Thank you."

I nodded once, then dug again through my pack for the bottle of vitamins, just as the car door opened.

The dark-skinned woman stepped out. She was taller, more statuesque than I had realized. Following her was a boy. He looked both tired and beaten, and the red rash on his face was more than enough evidence why.

I didn't have to say anything else. Daryl introduced me. "Guys, this's Laura. Michonne and Carl."

Michonne looked at me carefully, but greeted me nonetheless with a simple "Hey." Carl, though, said nothing.

They sat down, and Rick, who hadn't taken any oatmeal for himself, passed it first to his son. "Eat," he ordered, and Carl, though with some reluctance, did.

I knew that feeling – knew how hard it was to find an appetite after, no matter how starving your body is. I tried not to think about it, just dug out the vitamin pill and my water.

Breakfast continued in silence. The four of them shared before passing the pot back to me. I finished it off. Then, with a little water and a rag, cleaned it up and put the pot back into my bag.

I zipped up my bag and stood. As I swung my backpack onto my back and adjusted the straps, I glanced at Daryl. He was looking at me, but not my face. He was staring hard at my stomach. I looked away. I hated to leave, truly I did, but if I hadn't been asked to stay by now….

"You leavin'?" Rick asked.

I looked at him, then Daryl, then back at him. "It's daylight. Gotta move," I explained quietly. "Need water at least, and food. Won't find it standin' here."

Daryl seemed to be mulling over something. I reached for my half-empty bottle of water and lid and took a sip. Michonne and Carl were already packing up to move out themselves.

"You goin' somewhere specific?" Daryl asked.

I shot him a questioning look and shook my head.

He nodded. "You stick with us then."

* * *

Daryl's group didn't talk much, but they all seemed to know each other well. They seemed to communicate without words.

I lagged a bit behind the others, but shortly after we set off, Daryl lagged behind as well to explain the plan. I learned that they were headed for somewhere called Terminus. The place was supposed to exist where the traintracks met. It seemed to me too good to be true. Not everyone could find sanctuary – not when there were people in this world like Joe's clan. He told me again I could stick with them.

I promised to think about it.

The farther we walked, the more I thought. I had grown admittedly cynical over the last few months, but always with good reason. Sanctuary just sounded too good to be true. I needed a place – needed somewhere safe to be when it was time. I needed a doctor if possible. A nurse – an EMT. Anyone who knew what the hell they were doing delivering babies. But at the same time, it wasn't just me to think about. If his place wasn't legitimate, it wasn't just my life at risk anymore. How could I justify taking it?

But then again, the idea that such a place would be advertised at all meant either it was real or it had been real once. The thought that this might be some sort of trap did cross my mind, but the fact was, I couldn't fathom any reason to put out the signs, to lure good people into your midst, if you weren't good and kind yourself. I mean really, what was the point? To rob their supplies and kill them after? I supposed it was possible, but why risk a bigger stronger group arriving to take it all away?

When we reached the sign, I knew I had to decide. It was on the ground. Daryl wiped it clean with a hand, announcing we were close. I frowned. I didn't want to leave these people, but I didn't want to go into an unknown situation unprotected.

I had the back-up pistol I'd found at Joe's camp. But still, it had only 15 rounds, and my revolver was down to 3.

"You comin'?" I looked up at the four of them. Michonne was the one that was asking. She didn't seem to have any thoughts one way or the other, judging from the impassive look in her face.

Rick looked wary, Daryl, concerned – or maybe just curious. Carl just looked at the ground. I don't know what it was – what made me nod my head. But going into the unknown with a group – and more, a group of what I believed were good people…. Well, it was better than what I'd had. Me and the bean, drifting along with no purpose, plan or direction. I needed people – _good_ people.

The group turned, heading into the woods. At least they were smart. I slid the axe from my belt and gripped it in my hand. I'd be too big for it soon – the belt. That was another reason to stay. I knew – of _course_ I knew – that soon, I'd be too big to be much good for anything except a walker meal. I needed protection, as much as I hated the notion.

Walking along behind the group in silence was actually nice. The sound of multiple footfalls reminded me of a simpler time – a better time. A time before Joe was ever real to me.

When we reached a fence, we all fanned out to secure the area. Carl went off with Michonne. I went off with Daryl. He motioned with a hand for me to stay behind him, so I did. (Rule #4, No arguing within shouting distance of walkers.)

I let him lead me down one side of a hill to scout the area. I followed silently, my axe ready. I spotted a pair of walkers and signaled him with a quiet, "Psst." He looked at me, then followed my line of sight. They were far off and with a nod of his head, he signaled me to keep going instead of dealing with them.

He came up to another clear part of the fence and crouched low behind some leaves. I glanced around, spotting only two people on the grounds, but no other movement. Leaving the surveying to Daryl, I turned away from the fence, standing post at his back. Those two we'd seen were getting closer and were starting to get more vocal as they approached.

I frowned, readying myself. One was stumbling to the side. I took a few steps away from Daryl, standing clear of the man. Their dead eyes followed my movements. I rounded on them, increasing the distance between myself and the larger one while getting closer to the other. Taking on the smaller one first, I swung my axe like a baseball bat, and struck him in the head. The skull split and the body fell, knocking into the other one. To my chagrin, it didn't slow the larger walker down.

The monster stumbled a bit, but kept coming. He was too tall for me to strike him properly in the head. He was at least a foot taller than me, but I wasn't about to go down without at least trying. Leading the thing away from Daryl, I led it right across a tree root, hoping to get the thing to trip so I could nail it in the head. It did trip, caught its foot on the root, but kept on coming. I smirked proudly and raised my weapon, but felt a sudden pressure on my left arm. I twisted quickly out of the grip, my eyes widening in silent terror as I found myself face to face with another walker, it's filthy rotting mouth inches from the sleeve of my jacket. I yanked my arm away and yelped, kicking the thing away.

Of course, it just kept coming. With a backhanded swing of the axe blade, I was able to send the rotter stumbling, now with a gash in the side of its head. I turned my attention on the one on the ground, the big guy that was inching its way towards my ankles. I stepped back and brought down my axe, splitting open the top of the big one's head.

As I stood I heard the order, " _Duck!_ "

I did, crouching down and covering my head, just in time to hear the thwack of a bowstring and the sound of wooden arrow piercing flesh. I ventured a peek, turning my head, but ducked again when walker corpse collapsed right on my back. _Away,_ my instincts screamed. _Get away!_

With a gasp of terror I scrambled out from under the female walker and to my feet. I turned and backed away, surveying the corpses, looking for any sign of movement. Then, I looked back up at Daryl. I took a breath, perhaps my first in three whole minutes. He stomped over quickly. "You all right?" he asked.

I nodded curtly, trying my best to school the shock and terror from my face. "Fine. I'm fine." And though I probably should have thanked him, more than anything, I felt an anger blooming. I could have handled it. In fact, _I had_ been handling it.

I shook the thoughts away. I was being unfair, I knew. As Daryl put his foot on the walker's head and pulled his arrow out to use again, I was reminded of that day in the clothing store. The tension in my face softened. "Daryl," I said, catching his eyes as he looked at me. "Thanks. For the help."

He looked down, then up at me again. His face was hard, his eyes were narrowed, and they flicked from right to left and back again like he was reading when he looked at me. He nodded and grunted quietly, saying nothing more on the matter. It was done, and I was glad that it was over.

We walked back to the meeting point in silence. There, Rick was digging a hole in the ground. He set the bag of guns and supplies into the hole and explained we'd leave it there, hidden, just in case. Something in me stirred just as he moved to close the bag.

"Wait," I said suddenly. I pulled my revolver from the holster, and knelt beside the open bag. I laid down the gun, and after a moment of mental debate, placed my camp axe in as well. I looked up at Rick and nodded my consent to close the bag. After everything that happened, I had made my choice already. I was with them – whether this all went to hell or not.

I stepped back, letting Rick bury the weapons. Meanwhile, I rummaged through the outside of my bag for my small knife. I usually used it to cook, but against a human assailant, I would do fine.

I checked the blade, wrapped it in a bit of cloth, then slid it into my shoe. I looked up to catch Daryl watching me, but I ignored it. It wasn't meant to be easily accessible – just there in case of a pinch. For anything else, I had the pistol. I pulled it from my waistband, examined the piece to confirm the safety was on. Then I removed the magazine, checked the chamber, and put the magazine in and chambered a round. I shouldered my pack and waited.


	5. Terminus

We headed in and around the back of Terminus, entering a building from a side door. I moved as silently as I could, and we were lined up, weapons at our sides, when we were greeted by a guy who sounded as slick as a salesman.

They asked me to lay down my gun. I looked at Rick, and when he moved to do it, I flipped the safety on and put the gun on the ground. I held my breath and glared as the guy from Terminus patted me down. To my surprise, they gave us back our weapons. I holstered mine. It wasn't a perfect fit, but then, the world had ended. I doubted the Termites noticed or cared. We were led into a courtyard and offered some barbecue.

For a second, I felt relief. I felt that maybe, things would be fine. But then Rick grabbed his gun and grabbed our guide and Daryl raised his bow. I didn't know – I didn't know what was going on, but now the Terminus camp had guns on us and I raised my own in one quick draw. _Shit,_ I thought. _Shit shit shit!_

I trained my sights on their men. I didn't know what Rick was doing, but I was here with him. As far as the Terminus people were concerned, I was a member of Rick's little band. But then – he started asking about riot gear and a poncho. He demanded, " _Where are our people?"_ And that's when I realized what had happened. I felt panic rise, but I breathed, pushing it down. My finger was just on the trigger. I listened, straining for something, a signal, a shot.

Then, all hell broke loose. The next few minutes, my mind was only on one thing – getting the hell out of dodge. I ran, shooting at anything that moved, and mostly missing. I screamed as bullets started to fly and hit the ground at our feet, driving us in a different direction than we'd been moving. It happened a few more times until we found ourselves in a room full of candle.

"I don't think they're trying to kill us," someone shouted. Michonne, I think?

"…shooting at our feet," said someone else. Rick, maybe?

And all my mind kept screaming at me was _Trap._

 _Fuck fuck FUCK!_

We were in this sick room filled with candles, names written in chalk, or paint. I read the words on the wall. Us First. Never Trust….

"Fuck!" I choked out as one escape was cut off and we ran to another.

Increasingly, I felt like I was a rat in a maze, being directed by a scientist where to go. When we finally reached the end of the obstacle course, I found myself face to face with a firing squad. I had no choice but to lay down my gun. I put my hands up over my head, and when they finally said, "Glasses, you next," I went. I lined up behind the others. Then, they made us walk – right into a train car that was basically a cage. A cage for animals. _Shit._

As soon as we were in, they shut the door. I heard the shuffle of footsteps, and a whisper. We weren't alone.

An unfamiliar voice rang out of the shadows. "Rick?"

I watched the exchange between my newest companions and the total strangers in the train car. It was clear that by some lucky miracle, Rick had found the people he'd been looking for. When Rick finally said the Terminus people would feel pretty stupid, I nearly gawked at him in surprise.

There was a dangerous look in his eyes that matched the tone of his voice as he said it. They would find out. The Terminus group would find out they fucked with the wrong people. My breath caught. I backed up into the shadows and leaned against the wall for support.

I wanted to cry at the idea of fighting back. It terrified me now because it wasn't just my own life I was risking. Terror made me want to scream and tantrum and beg, to throw myself on the mercy of the captors, but it wasn't an option now. The rational part of me knew. I was tired. We'd been running and now my foot ached something awful. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Kicking off my shoe, I listened hard for the sound of someone approaching and just heard nothing. I stayed back away from the group, crouching down to the ground to pull the small knife from my boot and put the boot back on. I was tying the laces tight while Rick explained how we would be fighting back.

"We'll manage with what we have," he said. "Use the wood from this trailer. Belts, straps, chains – anything on you at all."

His speech made me look at Daryl, who was looking straight back at me. I unhooked my belt, pulled off my jacket. "Zippers…," Rick was saying.

I turned my eyes back on Daryl. I heaved a breath. From my back pocket, I retrieved the knife I'd tucked there, unwrapped the cloth and stood. I headed over to Daryl, flipped the knife over in my hand and held out the handle to him. He stared at me.

"Take it," I whispered. He didn't – a clear violation of Rule #4.

I gestured with my hand and nodded as if to repeat my words.

"No. You keep it."

I scowled at him. "Don't argue with me. You'll reach their eyes better than I can, Daryl."

His own face twisted into a scowl, like he was angry I'd even suggested it. Snatching the knife from my hand, he ground out an unwilling, "Fine."

We went back to work. I wrapped my belt around my hand, destroyed my jacket to get the zippers out. The others caught each other up on who they were and how they came to be there, at Terminus, together. I merely listened.

Finally the one called Glenn nodded his chin at me. "What about you?" he asked.

I took a second. Glanced at Daryl, Rick, Michonne. "We met last night. Had a common enemy." He looked like that didn't really satisfy him.

Daryl spoke up then. "She helped us take out that gang," he clarified. At Daryl's words, Glenn just nodded.

I didn't feel I belonged. Not the way he others did. But this was now my group, for better or worse. I was sticking with them until I escaped this Terminus hell, dead or alive. When the time came, I readied myself to fight. So you know, I'm kind of short, just below average height for a woman. I'm not the best hand-to-hand fighter either, by any means, but I could be scrappy when backed in a corner, that much I knew.

I watched the door, balancing weight between my feet, ready to pounce and punch, when above us, metal creaked and light flooded in. They threw something in with us – a canister. I didn't know what it was until Abraham shouted, "Move!"

I turned to run and felt someone grab me, throwing me down to the ground beneath them. My eyes stung. My lungs were on fire. I coughed and gasped. Then, the door opened, the weight on me lifted. Shouts rang out. The car door closed. Feeling my way along the ground on my hands and knees, my hand landed on something small and flat and cold. My knife. Daryl had dropped it. _Shit._

My heart raced. Something was happening now to Daryl, Rick and the others, something _bad._ For a while I could barely think or move, and then out of nowhere, shots were fired, followed by an almost deafening boom that shook my entire body where I sat.

We were going to die. I knew it, as well as I knew my own name. We were going to die. Sasha – she knew it, too. Around us, hell had broken loose. Gunfire rang. The shots, the explosion, the moans. Minutes after four of our men were taken, everything outside turned to chaos. Sasha demanded Eugene explain to her the cure – the cure he and his crew were desperate to get to Washington. I didn't care anymore. It didn't matter. Eugene was going to die, and so was I.

So were _we._

I cradled my stomach with my left arm and tried to keep myself from crying, but I couldn't. All I'd wanted was not to be alone. I'd wanted to be alive and not alone. But this – all of this. I felt the hopelessness finally settle, like the universe was playing a cruel, cruel joke.

Tears streamed and I sniffled. I wiped my eyes with my arm. _Fucking hormones._

The others weren't so concerned with me, and that was well and good. I didn't want to be a distraction. That was the last thing I needed to do was kill their chances of getting out.

"I sure as hell can't take out a walker with belts and buttons and good intentions," Eugene was saying.

Silently, I agreed, but Michonne offered a smile. "Yeah, but we _can._ "

I sniffled quietly again and wiped my nose on my hand. My eyes followed her. She glanced around, finally looking at me.

I took a steadying breath. I had to pull it together. We were fighting our way out of this, and 'we' included me. Sitting around was doing nobody any good. Gathering up discarded fabric from my jacket, I walked it over to Michonne to use for binding.

She and Carl looked up at me. Carl nodded as he took it. We could do it. Even if I didn't believe it, really, I was going to have to try.

After a time, the car door opened quickly and suddenly. There, to my surprise, was _Rick!_ He said to move, and move I did, knife in one hand, belt wrapped around the other. A walker came at me. I took a page from Maggie's book, punched it out of the way, and kept on running. I didn't stop. I kept running, my heart racing. Finally, it was a question of up and over. Without any prompting, Abraham offered a boost, I took it (no arguing, remember?) and over I went, landing unsteadily on my feet and backing away to make room for others.


	6. Reunion

We moved swiftly along the fence, led by Daryl, to the place we'd hidden the guns. I wished for a moment that I'd hidden more than just the axe and small revolver. As Rick tried telling us killing the rest of the Terminus group would have to happen, I felt a panic rise in my belly. Revenge was stupid. Revenge got you killed. Revenge had almost gotten _me_ killed and I didn't understand why we would have to kill them _just_ for locking us up. But then, the underbrush ruffled, I took a step back. A woman, with short hair, a crossbow, and a gun, came into view.

Daryl saw her, too. He turned to her and ran and hugged her so suddenly I was struck by just how tightly he held her. I could hear his shallow breaths as he buried his head in her neck. He loved this woman, that much was pretty damn clear. And, from what I could see, so did Rick. The other man went up and hugged her, too. Another long-lost member.

I was glad, truly glad, but something sad and heavy settled in my chest. I hadn't found my people, and seeing Daryl, Rick and Michonne find theirs was like a stab in the gut.

Carol led us away, once I was reunited with gun and axe alike. I resituated my belt, just at the base of the swell in my belly, and I tucked my gun into it. The group went on ahead. I walked towards the back of the group, glancing over at Rick as he made some note on the sign, but went right on with the group.

I wasn't sure what we were doing, why we were following Carol and Daryl, but I couldn't question it now. It was too late. "Hey."

I turned towards the voice. The darkhaired girl – Kara? – was speaking to me. "Hey," I returned.

"I'm Tara." She held out her hand as we walked

"Laura." I swapped my axe to my left hand and took her hand in my right.

She smiled crookedly at me. I offered a small smile back as I slid my hand from hers.

"So you were alone before this?" she asked. "Before meeting them?"

I nodded. "Yeah. I was."

"Me, too," she supplied, and offered a nervous, but quiet chuckle. "Glenn and I – well – we ran into each other."

I nodded.

She seemed about to say or ask something else when everyone stopped. Rick was running and taking a kid in his arms – a _baby_ kid. Carl was with them, too. I felt something hot in my throat.

Because a reunion meant they'd been separated. And just the thought of one day being separated from my own caused a chill to climb up my spine and turned my stomach violently.

I murmured a quick 'excuse me and walked as quickly as I could behind the group, to the tree line. Bile rose into my mouth, and with one hand bracing against a tree, I bent and heaved. There wasn't much to let up. I'd eaten nothing since the oatmeal almost a full 8 hours earlier, but that didn't stop me from trying. I gagged and coughed, trying to be as quiet as I could when I heard hurried footsteps come up behind me. "You ok?" Tara whispered.

I raised my left hand. "Fine. Fine. Just - give me a minute," I gasped out.

I shut my eyes tightly. _How embarrassing_. But her concern was sweet at least. When I finally glanced to look behind me she was still there, but looking away, standing sentry it seemed for my nauseated form.

I wiped my mouth on my hand and glanced at the group, which seemed to be too preoccupied with reunions to take much notice. _Thank God._

I picked up my axe from where I'd let it drop and headed over to Tara's side. "I'm fine now. Thanks."

She nodded and patted me on the back – a silent suggestion we go and meet up again with the group.

* * *

We walked a long time that day, mostly in silence, and always away from the Terminus camp. That night, we hunkered down, and people were assigned to watches. I was not (no surprise) one of those people.

I slept though – thankfully slept. The next day, early, I set about putting out the last of the fire, stirring dirt in the embers. Twigs cracked and guns rose, and Daryl walked into sight, a string of squirrels on his shoulder. "We surrender," he said sarcastically and held up his hands. The collective tension of the camp dropped a decibel as everyone lowered their guns. I slid my axe back into my belt and let out a breath, shaking my head.

We moved out early that day. As we walked, Tyreese carried the baby – Judith. I tried not to look too interested. I worried enough that people _knew_ without having them catch me making googly eyes at the only actual baby nearby.

For me, the group felt safe. Rick, for all his manic energy bubbling under his skin, felt _safe_. "Tighten it up" he'd say, and we'd all move in closer together.

His reaction to the screams was the first indication that maybe Rick was not as safe as he seemed. Rick was hesitant. And part of me couldn't help but wonder if he'd have hesitated with me, if it were me, and it was a choice between doing nothing and risking Carl or Judy or anybody else.

Carl convinced him quickly, though. "Come _on!_ " And when Rick moved, the rest of us did. I hung back while a few of the others rushed forward, not because I was a coward, but because too many cooks in the kitchen could get people killed as well. The priest, or reverend, or preacher – whatever it was he called himself – threw up. And for the second time in just as many days, I thought I might, too. I covered my nose and looked away from the suggestion.

When I glanced up again, Rick was looking at him. The tension was thick. The group was strong but on the defensive. After checking him for weapons, Rick started asking him three questions – questions I recognized. _How many walkers have you killed? How many people have you killed?_ _Why_ _?_

I glanced at Daryl. He wasn't looking at me, just at the preacher, Gabriel.

"The Lord abhors violence…"

Rick's jaw tightened. I could see it where I stood. "What have you _done?_ " he demanded.

The preacher found his courage then. He called himself a sinner, said he confessed his sins to God. I bit my tongue. It angered me, what he said. I thought this man a sanctimonious prick, and I'd have said it aloud if I didn't think it bad form to interrupt the apparent leader of the group.

Michonne, though, spoke up to change the subject. "You said you had a church?"


	7. Supplies

**A/N:** Thanks again to everyone who's reviewed. Specifically, angelicedg, I tried messaging you but your messaging was turned off. To try and answer your question, I would really like Laura to find her family and friends, but I haven't written that happening yet. I have a few ideas for how it could happen though... So what I'm going to do is leave it to the readers!

 **Should Laura get a chance to find her family again? Do you want to see it happen in this story? Or would you rather I focus on her finding her old group in the sequel?** Your reviews may affect the ending of this story, so let me know what you'd like to see! And as always, thanks for reading. :)

* * *

Once we reached it, the church was unremarkable. Rick unlocked it, and after a glance over my shoulder to make sure we all were clear, I went inside, fanning out with everyone else as we secured the small enclosure.

It almost made me ill to see it. The place looked at first glance completely untouched. No blood, no dirt, no death. How the place survived was beyond me, but I didn't ask the question. I wasn't in charge.

When it was clear the place was safe – or free of walkers at least – the topic turned to food and supplies. There was a foodbank, Gabriel told us. Sasha and Bob volunteered to go with Rick and Michonne to clear it out. Another group would scout for water. Part of me wanted to stick with Daryl, but he was sidled close to Carol and I didn't want to intrude. Instead I walked up to Glenn and Tara, who'd been tasked with finding ammo and other supplies. "You're going on the supply run?" I asked.

Glenn turned and blinked at me.

"I'll come with you. I can help."

He hesitated, but Tara looked between him and me and interjected a happy, "Great."

But Glenn shook his head. "No offense, but I don't know if that's a great idea. We're three of us already. And the more of _us_ , the slower we are."

Tara is the one that spoke up in my defense. "She'll keep up." Then, she turned to me, "won't you?"

I nodded. "Yeah. I will. I can handle myself."

He hesitated, but I could see his reluctance wane. He nodded, and it was set.

We left shortly after, heading out with the larger group, then splitting off. The first stop for us was a gun shop Glenn had found in the phonebook. Rather than going in as a group, he went in himself – insisted in fact. I didn't argue. He came out with three silencers the owner had stashed in a mini-fridge. "No ammo, though," I lamented. He said nothing.

I nodded, but stopped. "How about that place?" I asked, indicating a small corner liquor store. The windows were mostly intact, but it was clear someone had cleaned out the place of liquor.

"Uh, booze isn't on the list," Glenn replied.

I shook my head. "No, I mean, for a gun. Or at least extra ammo. Shop owner might've armed himself." I was already moving towards the door, my camp axe in my hand and ready to swing. I could hear Glenn huffing and he jogged up behind me as my hand reached the door handle.

"Wait. Wait. We do it, we do it my way." I turned towards him and looked at him, half expectant and half-annoyed.

"I'll go in first, and you cover me," he explained.

"Fine."

No sense arguing. I let him lead the way into the small space, let him rummage around behind the counter, as I looked up along the high shelves behind the tv screen. I whistled. Glenn looked up. I pointed at the box of bullets half hidden behind the screen.

Looking shocked, he grabbed for the box, then reached back into the shelf to check for another. He didn't find another. I nodded my head towards the door.

He nodded. I left. He followed me out. Glenn held up and shook the box to show off what we'd found.

"Nice!" exclaimed Tara, "What caliber?"

As we walked on towards our second stop, a pharmacy down the road, Glenn hung back and started walking beside me. "Nice job back there," he said.

I looked at him, and pleased for the praise, I smiled. I shrugged off the compliment. "Nice job yourself."

* * *

It turned out to be a successful day for everyone. That night, everyone was feeling jovial – nothing like a full stomach to put us all in a hell of a good mood. Rick's announcement that we all were going to Washington was either the icing on the cake or the result of all the food he'd already eaten. Everyone cheered, smiled, laughed. I smiled at Rick and Judith myself. Maybe he was right. The thought of infrastructure, food, water, fuel – the things that made life more than just surviving – I could really do with that. I _needed_ that. And maybe, if we could make it, I could find my group again. Find my brother and friends again.

Never one to turn down a feast, I ate what I could stomach, and sat back comfortably sipping my bottle of water. Glenn came up with a paper cup. He offered it to me. "Come on – you deserve it," he said, pressing the cup at me.

I held up a hand to refuse. "Thanks, but no thanks," I told him quietly. "You have it. Enjoy it. S'not my thing." I smiled so he would know I wasn't trying to blow him off. He looked a bit disappointed, but nodded, instead heading over to Tara and Maggie and handing his wife the cup. He kissed her on the cheek. It made me smile for real.

This was a good night so far – a really, really good night. From a distance, I watched Tyreese pass Judith to Sasha, watched them fawn over the baby in her arms. I barely noticed Michonne approach me until she was lowering herself down to the floor beside me.

"Hey," I greeted her.

"Hey," she returned, her voice a bit softer and kinder than I was used to. "I never got the chance to properly thank you for what you did. Risking your life for us with that gang." I wasn't sure what to make of the conversation, so I stayed silent – let her get to whatever point she was trying to make. "I appreciate it. I know Rick appreciates it. And Carl. You were good to do what you did."

I listened to her. I took it in. I tried to hear her words. But I didn't feel like what I'd done was all that selfless to begin with. Still I nodded. "They were bad people," I told her simply. "They deserved what they got."

Slowly, Michonne nodded her agreement. "They were. They'd have hurt me, hurt Carl. They would have killed Rick and Daryl."

I knew this already. It was nothing new to me.

"Daryl told me he saw you once before. He said you were in a store. He covered for you. Kept Joe and his gang from finding you."

I remembered it clearly. It felt like a lifetime ago. After a moment, I confirmed it with a nod. "He did. Saved my life that day. I owed it to him to try and help save his." Though really, part of me figured Daryl could have handled it on his own. Hell, he ended up saving _me_ while I'd been busy saving him.

Michonne took a breath. Clearly, she was getting to the point she'd actually wanted to make. "He told me – the store. It sold maternity clothes."

My eyes widened, and realizing my mistake, I looked away. I stared at the floor, feeling the blood rise into my ears. I swallowed dryly, then looked at her again. I didn't know what to say, or what to do. I felt like a doe in a trap. "I'm fine," I whispered quickly. "I'm strong. I won't be a burden. I swear." I tried to read her eyes – tried to find sympathy, empathy, _anything._ "I'll pull my weight. Please. Don't – don't tell the others."

I don't know why I didn't want her to say. I knew the others would figure it out, but being part of a group was something I needed. I just thought I'd have more time to let them know me, let them know I know what I'm doing. Let them know I could be of _use_ before they discarded me.

Michonne studied me, her thoughts inscrutable. She opened her mouth to speak when Sasha called out loudly to the whole group, "Has _anyone_ seen Bob?"


	8. Bloodbath

**A/N:** Thanks to everyone for their input and reviews! There will be three more chapters.

* * *

"Come high noon, we're taillights," Abraham warned.

The festive atmosphere had quickly devolved to a somber silence. The night became a swirl of tension and fear – Sasha threatening Gabriel, the pastor's shocking confession, the utter gore of Bob's return, and finally everything that happened between Rick and Abraham. I stood back, stayed away, let the leaders fight it out and was content to hide and wait for dust to settle.

Arms crossed over my middle, I waited, taking in all of the faces. Daryl and Carol had left? Tara, Glenn and Maggie were going to Washington? And now, all I had was Rick, Michonne, and Carl, and some people I never even got to know. Maybe I shouldn't have been just thinking about myself, but everyone I knew that had my back were gone or leaving.

I almost offered to go, almost offered to go with Abraham to D.C. to stay wit Tara, but he had never really seen me win a fight. I was honestly more afraid of getting turned down and having Rick see me as fickle.

The thought of losing Tara though, the only person I might consider a friend since all this started – well, it really, really sucked. I glanced at her, and though I probably shouldn't have stared as long as I did, I'm glad she turned and looked at me, too. She smiled sadly. I tried to smile back. It was brave of her to offer, brave to try and fix the fight. I had to say, I admired her for what she did. And honestly, Glenn and Maggie, too.

I hadn't meant for her to come over, hadn't meant for her to take my looking at her as an invitation, but I couldn't say the company was unwelcome. I watched her quietly rise from her seat, and cross the floor over to me, and lean against the wall beside me.

"Hey," she greeted me quietly.

"Hi."

She looked like she was about to speak. But then she closed her mouth and sighed.

I hesitated, but cleared my throat quietly. "I think it's really cool of ya to go to D.C. That was pretty brave what you did. Stepping up. For Bob, and all of us."

She looked down at her feet, then up again, sucked in a breath and let out a nervous laugh. "I don't know about that," she said. I wondered if she was blushing, and I felt my lips tug into a crooked smile.

I just nodded. "It is," I insisted. "You put a bunch of virtual strangers ahead of yourself. I don't…." I hesitated, looking down at my hands before admitting it out loud. "I don't know if I could, myself." I was ashamed to say it, honestly. But right now? Faced with the very real chance that I might be alone again? I couldn't bring myself to think about anyone but myself.

Tara, to my surprise, scoffed. "Please," she said, looking at me, incredulously. "What do you call what happened back before Terminus? When you first hooked up with Daryl, Rick and Michonne? Daryl _said_ – he told us you showed up and helped them out. They were strangers to you, then, too."

I shook my head. "It was different."

"How?"

"Daryl saved me first," I insisted. I looked over at her again, directly into her honest eyes. "I was returning the favor."

Tara smirked and let out a small, quiet laugh. "Yeah, there's always a lot of that going around."

My eyebrows drew together in a questioning look, but she just looked over at me and smiled. "Forget it," she said with a shake of her head. "You're obviously too wrapped up in your pity party to see it." I raised my brows but she was smiling.

"Shut up," I hissed, and smacked her playfully on the arm.

She gave me a light shove back. I felt a warmth grow in my chest, and something – or someone – fluttered in my belly.

I readjusted my angle against the wall, and absently picked one fingernail with another.

After a moment, she seemed to read my mind. "He'll be back," she whispered. I looked up at her. "Daryl and Carol – they'll both be back in the morning. And tomorrow, we'll all leave for DC together."

I watched her eyes for a moment. I could see she didn't believe it, but offered a smile just the same. I didn't believe it either, but I forced a smile and nodded anyway. "Sure," I said. But something in me realized what I truly felt afraid of. It wasn't of leaving, or even of being left alone. _What if Daryl doesn't come back?_

The whole idea was terrifying to me, but I didn't have a moment to waste on the thought.

"Everyone, circle up," Rick called, and with one fleeting glance at Tara, I answered the call.

The plan was clear, but it was risky. It was simple – _stupid_ simple – but it depended on many contingencies our group just couldn't control. My jaw was tight, and not for the first time since he'd left, I found myself wishing Daryl was here. But it was a plan, and I can follow a plan. Rick began handing out rifles and handguns to the group. He got to me and handed me a glock. I nodded my thanks. "Remember – Carl, Rosita, you'll be the only ones armed. Shoot only if you have to. Everyone else, let's put on a show…"

We headed out into the night, pistols and rifles up at the ready. I think the very worst part for me was waiting for our moment. We had to be far enough away to be convincing, had to be sure the group of cannibals headed all the way into the church, had to approach without being heard or seen, then take them out one by one – but the very worst part for me had been the wait. I couldn't help but think that maybe they'd rush, maybe Garreth would just shoot up the door and kill everyone inside. I didn't want it to be true, but it was fear that made me impatient.

Finally, Rick gave the silent signal. We knew our roles. Me? I was back-up. Along with Tara and Maggie. We waited outside. Waited for our cue.

"Still, you could have killed us when you came in. There must be a reason why you didn't"

"We didn't want to waste the bullets."

I raised my gun and went inside. It was moments – a mere few moments, before Rick slaughtered Garreth and Sasha stabbed Nicholas to death. Before Abraham beat the other one over and over and over… It was a bloodbath, and I winced hard at the sounds of squelching flesh. But after what they did to Bob? After what they said they'd do to other people?

There was no way I felt sorry for them. All of these people were bad. Just like Joe. Just like the other men that traveled with them. This was justice. More than that, this was how it had to be.

Once it was clear the Terminus people were dead, I reluctantly lowered my gun. I watched, eyes on Gabriel, as his face contorted in horror. "This is God's house," he gasped.

My jaw clenched.

"No," Maggie said. "It's just four walls and a roof."


	9. Secrets

**A/N:** A lot goes down in this chapter. Daryl is still missing, Abraham & Co. are still planning on heading out of town, there are dead bodies in a church, and Laura is dealing with a lot of conflicting fears now that someone's figured out her (not so subtle) secret. I struggled a lot with how to write Rick in this chapter, and even ended up changing things up a few times before I decided this was how it had to be. I welcome feedback though. I'm not a fan of drama for drama's sake, but I try hard to keep everyone in character for the beginning of season 5. I'd like to know if you guys agree with how things ultimately go down with our favorite survivors, so drop me a review, pretty please with cherries on top. And as always, enjoy. :)

* * *

I saw Michonne reach for the legs of the dead girl, and I jogged up to help. I checked the safety on my gun and tucked it in my belt, then bent and grabbed the corpse by the elbows.

The woman across from me paused. "You sure you got it?" she asked.

I pulled a face, annoyed that she was arguing with the help. "Yeah, I'm sure." It was heavier than I'd expected, but still, I managed to help her get the thing out the door. After we put the body down, I heaved a breath and glanced up at Michonne. She was looking at me intently.

"You don't have anything to prove," she told me.

"Yeah, I do," I said, frowning a bit at her words.

I turned away and headed back inside to help with the clean up. What Michonne had said had angered me, and it was exactly what I didn't want to happen. As soon as everyone knew I was pregnant, the group would no longer treat me like a person with my own ideas and talents. They wouldn't trust me to know my limits. I'd be nothing more than an incubator – a damn cocoon for a growing creature that didn't even belong to them.

With Michonne it had already started. Then, whenever she told the rest of the group – because I knew it was only a matter of time – it would start with all of them, too. I would go from contributing member to burden in 20 seconds flat. I hated the thought. Despised it. With eyes narrowed and jaw clenched, I scrubbed at the wooden floors with a thick bristled brush, digging in and pressing to exercise my frustration. It was never supposed to be this way. I was never supposed to be pregnant.

For the first time since all of it, I felt a stab of regret and longing, and right away, a pang of guilt. What was wrong with me, I wondered? Here, surrounded by people, I was having thoughts I'd never entertained when I was alone. I never thought about trying to hurt the baby, or wished it away, and in my mind, I never thought of it as anything more than mine. I never considered it a burden, not until today. In fact, for months, the little caterpillar inside me was the only thing that even kept me going. It had saved me.

I sat back, resting on my heels, and dunked the brush in the soapy bucket, exchanging it for a rag. This wasn't right. This wasn't _me_. Maybe being around the blood was getting to me. The lemon cleaner invaded my nostrils and made me feel light-headed. Still, I could smell the thick iron scent of blood beneath it as I used the rag to mop up what I could of pink soapy water from the floor and squeeze it into the bucket.

I could see the light of the sunrise through the glass of the windows. I rose off the floor, and dropped the tainted rag in my bucket. I turned to find Tara there with empty water jugs in her hands. "Walk with me?" she asked with a hopeful smile

I couldn't help myself. I smiled back at her. "Sure – I needed to rinse the blood off anyway." I held up my stained hands as an illustration. They were covered in blotches of red almost all the way to my elbows.

Tara and I moved swiftly behind the church and into the woods and headed straight for the nearby stream. I noticed the way the water was flowing and moved just downstream of her. I rinsed my hands, using the sand of the stream bed to scrub them clean. Then I moved toward Tara and grabbed one of the jugs.

After a moment of silence, I spoke up and asked her cautiously, "Hey, Tara – we're friends, right?"

Ok, maybe that sounded needier than intended.

"Yeah, of course," she replied.

I nodded. "Well, if I tell you something, can I trust you to keep it to yourself? It's just – I know I need to tell the others but…." I sighed, and pulled the half-full jug from the water.

Tara turned and sat crosslegged on the grass. I looked up and saw the expression of concern in her face. "Of course," she responded quietly.

I swallowed thickly and turned to sit across from her, so close our knees almost touched.

I looked up at her, and for the first time since it happened I said the words out loud. "I'm pregnant." The words came out so softly I almost wasn't sure she'd heard me at first.

She looked at me, her features twisting into something inscrutable. Her eyes dropped first to my belly, then to the ground. "Oh," she said.

 _Oh?_

I wrapped my arm protectively across my middle and waited. Her eyes lifted, focusing on my stomach which, at 4 months or so – probably more like 5 – was not so clearly pregnant as it could have been.

"And you haven't told the others?" she asked.

She met my eyes. There was something cold, maybe disappointed there.

I shook my head. "Michonne knows. Daryl….guessed. I haven't told the others yet. It just –" I shook my head again.

Her eyes flicked between each of mine. "You _have_ to tell them."

I sighed, closing my eyes.

"I'm serious. They have to know. What if something happens? What if you're out on a run and something goes wrong?"

I scowled at the idea. I couldn't argue with her logic, but there was something very different holding me back. "What if they don't want to deal with it, Tara? What if keeping me around is too much of a risk? Babies cry."

"Judith cries."

"Judith is _Rick's,_ " I countered. How did she not understand my own child would not be afforded the same protection and free passes? "Mine isn't. Mine will still be crying long after Judith is old enough to know better. Mine will be putting Judith, Carl and everyone at risk for years." I fell silent, my narrowed eyes turning toward the water. The more I thought about it, the more I felt certain joining a group would never work – not just because they might not want me, but because I wasn't sure that I could ask them to risk themselves for me.

For a while we sat in silence. Me not looking at her, and her not saying a word. Then, I heard her shift. I looked up to see her standing. She reached out a hand to me. "Come on," she said. "Let's get this water back to Rick and the others."

Even though I didn't need it, I took her hand and let her help me up. I let my hand slip from hers. "I'll tell 'em soon," I promised quietly. "I will."

* * *

When noon rolled around, and Daryl and Carol were still MIA, I started feeling fully and truly worried. Rick was confident they'd return, and I wish I could have shared his confidence in the matter. I stood by the steps of the church while everyone said their goodbyes. Finally, when Tara had hugged the others, she came to me, offered me her fist, and of course, I bumped it. Then, she threw her arms around me. I caught her quickly and hugged her back. "Be safe," I told her.

"You, too."

We disentangled and with a final look back and a sad smile, Tara boarded the bus with the others. Maggie waved and Glenn gave a nod, and then, like that, the group was smaller almost by half.

I spent the rest of the day doing chores, gathering wood, boiling water, packing and stacking the food, and cleaning the handful of guns we had left.

With Bob dead, and half the group now moved on, I felt the sand in my hourglass running almost out. Michonne knew, Daryl suspected at least, and Rick – what would Rick do once he knew that my condition might compromise the safety of his daughter? Sure, Judy was just a baby herself, but mine… my _baby…_ would mean another few years of crying, another few years of scavenging bottles, another few years of dead, useless weight.

I was working out how to disassemble a rifle when Rick came over to me and sat beside me on the ground.

"Hey," he greeted me.

I offered a half-hearted smile. "Hey."

"There's something we need to talk about."

I stopped fidgeting with the weapon and set it down on the floor. I took a breath. "OK," I said, almost certain I knew what it was.

"I want you to know, the people here – they're like family to me. I'd do anything – _anything_ – to keep them all alive." He paused. I felt my chest tightening at the words.

"You – showed me a kindness," he continued. "That first day right after we met. You shared your food with me and my people. You helped to feed my _son_. And that was after you risked your life to help us with those men. I was willing to take Daryl's word about you. And I did my best to repay that debt."

Slowly, I nodded. "Thank you," I said, not sure what else he expected to hear.

"Now is there something, anything, I need to know about you." He seemed to chew the inside of his cheeks and turned his head, setting his eyes on me. I bit my bottom lip and sighed, shaking my head.

"Michonne, she talked to you…?" I asked quietly, resigned. I didn't blame her, really I didn't, but still.

To my surprise he shook his head. "No, actually. Tara did."

The words cut me deeply and came as a shock. Michonne I could get. Michonne I could deal with her telling Rick. But Tara? I turned wide eyes on Rick.

"She told me," he continued, "that there was something going on with you. She asked me if…" He stroked his beard with his hand, as if trying to figure out how to put it. "If I would look out for you no matter what it was."

I studied him, my jaw slack and questioning burning in my eyes.

"I told her that would depend on whether whatever's going on endangers my family. You understand that, don't you? She says you wouldn't let that happen, and I'm willing to trust that, but you understand that if I find out you're hiding something that in any way puts Carl or Judith – any of us – at risk… I will kill you. I won't hesitate."

My eyes widened at his words. Fear gripped at my throat and though I felt myself begin to tremble as I had that day in the pharmacy, I squared my jaw and narrowed my eyes. Slowly, I nodded. I understood. I heard him loud and clear. "I understand," I told him. "You don't have to worry, Rick." As much as I wanted to look away from his hard, frightening eyes, I didn't. I held his gaze.

It seemed like he was waiting – waiting for me to say something more. And when I didn't, he nodded, and said, "Okay. As long as we're clear."

Rick, still nodding, turned his gaze away from me finally. His newly found distrust of me was clear from Rick's tone. He just stood up, and walked away. He signaled Michonne to follow him. I saw she was looking at me with a strange expression on her face, then turned and followed Rick. I felt myself go cold with terror at the sight of the pair of them disappearing into the office. She would tell him, surely, if he didn't already know. Either that, or they were discussing the best way to eliminate the threat. I wouldn't allow it. I needed to go – needed to pack – needed to get the hell out of dodge.


	10. Leaving

I hurried as best I could, focused on strapping my sleeping bag onto my pack, then stood and slung it onto my back.

"Where are you going?"

Startled, I turned to find Carl holding baby Judith. It was the first time Carl ever directly spoke to me. As he looked at me, I tried to recover my senses. "Carl," I breathed. I cast a glance at the office where Michonne and Rick had disappeared into.

"I – I have to go."

"Why?"

"Well I – I had my own group, you know? A while ago," I explained, even as I slipped my revolver into the holster and tightened the straps up on my pack. "I gotta get back to lookin' for 'em."

He looked at me, his brows furrowing as Judith cooed and palmed his shirt with one little fist. I looked at her, then back at Carl. "Aren't you gonna take any food?" Carl asked.

I glanced at the pile of canned and dry food I'd helped to organize earlier and swallowed thickly. "No, I – it's fine. I can find my own on the way." He didn't seem convinced. In fact, he looked agitated and worried. I forced a smile. "Really, Carl – I'm fine," I insisted as I backed away. "I just – I really gotta go." Again, my eyes tipped up to the closed office door. Then, I turned around to walk away.

"What did he say to you?" Carl asked. I stopped in my tracks and turned, wide-eyed, to see the teenager stalking towards me. He glared at me. "What did he say?"

"Nothing, Carl. Don't worry about it."

"Everything was fine before and now you're leaving? Without even saying goodbye to us? To anyone?"

I winced guiltily. "Carl, please," I begged him in a whisper, hoping to encourage him to keep his own voice down. "Please just – let me go."

He glared at me angrily, and Judith started to cry. Carl bounced her up and down, but he said nothing to me. I turned, and without another word of apology or goodbye, I left. Sasha and Tyreese were outside, but they were engrossed in their own conversation. I let the door swing closed quietly behind me, then crouching low, I scurried down the front steps and around the side of the building. Back pressed against the wood, I listened for the sound of footsteps, and hearing none, I headed in the direction of the stream. I needed to get away and quickly. I had no idea how long before Carl might alert the others to my absence. Besides that, Daylight was waning, and if I didn't find a place to hunker down, I'd be stuck outside with walkers after dark.

Deciding somewhere in town would be as good a place as any, I took to the stream, Rolled up my pants, and headed straight into the shallow water. I walked about 50 yards upstream, before finding a small embankment shielded by branches, and climbed out of the water. I was in someone's backyard, it seemed. Normally, I would have looked for food except the pastor said he'd cleared out every place nearby. It wasn't worth the risk unless there was food.

Walking on, I headed in towards town, quickly finding the street and then, the gun shop where Glenn first found the silencers. I didn't bother going in and continued on. Finally reaching the pharmacy, I decided to take a chance. We hadn't bothered going inside the day before, but on the off-chance there was something good to eat, I had to try. As much as I'd refused to take Rick's food, and indeed, had left my glock and all its ammo behind for the others, I did know I needed to eat. I figured it would have already been picked through, but it was worth a shot at least.

As I opened the door a chime sounded. I took a breath, waiting for the sound to alert the walkers to my presence, and as expected, a pair of them came ambling out from between the high store shelves. I set my sights on the closer one, took a breath, balanced myself, and landed a solid kick to its gut, knocking it back. Then, turning my axe on its friend, I swung splitting the skull.

With one foot on the thing's chest, I freed my axe, then turned and swung it sideways, hitting the first on the side of the head. It crumbled quickly. I took a breath. Heading farther into the store I took my time, stepping silently through the aisles. In the daylight, I happened to spot a half-concealed Luna bar. I grabbed and pocketed it.

Just as I turned the corner, another walker suddenly growled and lunged. I shrieked – the sound involuntary – and ducked away, leading the thing back towards its now-dead friends. As it followed me down the aisle, I tried not to focus on its lack of lips or the flesh that hung like curtains of its face. I took another breath, testing my balance and keeping my mind focused and calm. Then, I swung, cracking it right on top of the head. It fell, but the thing kept crawling and growling. I took another step back and swung again. This time the back of its head split open, spreading a puddle of putrid blood.

By the time I cleaned out the pharmacy, I managed to find some gum, a roll of lifesavers, a brand new toothbrush and paste and floss, some soap and towels, a few new t-shirts in my size, and only because I needed to let my boots and socks dry out, a pair of flipflops to tide me over until morning. Then, it was time to clear the back and pharmacy area. To my surprise, the door to the back was locked. Using a hairpin off of the shelves, I worked inexpertly to pick the lock, and after only a half an hour, I was in.

I had no flashlight. The best chance I had was to draw any walkers out to where I could see them, but when I knocked on the metal door and called "hello?" I heard no sound – either of walkers or anything else. I frowned. Rummaging around in total darkness wasn't exactly on my to do list for the day, and so I used the flipdown doorstop to prop the door open.

Then, heading back out into the store I found myself a lighter near the register. Using the lighter like a flashlight, I headed into the back, my axe in my right hand and my lighter in my outstretched left. The back was a mess, like someone had already been here, but no matter how hard I listened I couldn't hear any sounds that signaled the presence of anyone – dead or alive. I turned to go back, certain, finally, that I was alone, when suddenly, something grabbed my arm in the dark. I screamed. The lighter went out, but not before the flame shone light on a rotting face and a set of bared teeth, inches from my arm. I swung my axe at its head and pulled my arm away. I heard the thing fall. Scrambling in the dark, I tried to push past the thing, tripping as it grabbed for me again.

I fell but scrambled to my feet again and ran, the fallen walker literally biting at my heels. It got up, too, and when it followed me into the light, I saw why it was still up and moving. I had struck the side of the head with my axe, but it was hardly a clean cut into the brain. Readying my axe, I brought it down again and again and again, smashing into the skull and destroying the brain for good. I stumbled back, panting for breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. Tears welled in my eyes and one arm wrapped around my belly. _We're OK_ , I thought.

Once I was calm again, I braced myself and headed back into the back room. First, I made sure the back was clear, then sorted through the boxes for anything useful. I found toilet paper and a flashlight – clearly left there by the crew – some iodine, and believe it or not, one crate of bottled water hidden under the cleaning supplies. It was old, the sell-by dates set before the apocalypse, but damn it. It was clean. Then, I moved to the pharmacy area, sorting through the drugs left on the shelves. There weren't many. The cage had been busted open and someone had already rid the place of pain killers and antibiotics. I did, however, find myself some vitamins, and that was what I needed now the most. Slipping back into the main room from the door, I closed the heavy metal door behind me and moved to the front to secure it. Outside, the sun was low in the sky. Almost night.

After disconnecting the bell on the door, I'd dragged the smallest corpse outside to prop by the door, and then I went back in and locked the door with the latch. Finally, I set about clearing a place to sleep for the night.

* * *

 **A/N:** One chapter to go! Thanks again to all who followed, favorited and reviewed. I have some ideas for one-shots that could be part of the series that show things from Daryl, Rick, and Carl's perspectives. Let me know if there's something specific from this story you'd like to see from someone else's perspective and I'll work on those while we all wait patiently for the Season 6 premiere!


	11. Saved

**A/N:** We made it! This is the last Chapter in Part I of my "Cocoon" series, but I promise that the story does not end here! This 11-chapter fic is only part I of what will likely end up being a 3 or 4 part series. I just want to take a second to thank everyone again who has reviewed, favorited, and followed so far, especially **angelicedg** , **jeanf** , **Maia** , **CLTex** , **enchantmentangel** and all of the other member and Guest reviewers! You guys are fantastic and I really appreciate all your input and feedback so far.

And to the **Guest** who asked about Tara, it is not just you! I absolutely think Tara's got a little crush on Laura, which would explain why she was so excited to have Laura accompany the group on the supply run, and why she was so disappointed to know that Laura is pregnant (and presumably straight). I've gotten a few people rooting for a Daryl/Laura pairing down the road, but I have no definite plans one way or the other. Laura's not exactly in a place to consider a relationship with anyone at the moment, but if you guys have input on what kind of pairing you'd _like_ to see, definitely drop me a review!

And again, as always, I hope you enjoy! (And please check out my **A/N** at the end of this chapter, too.)

* * *

The next day, I awoke with an ache in my back, but otherwise not any worse for the wear. It was dawn, and time to get moving on. The others, if they'd looked for me, had obviously not found me, and I wanted to keep it that way. Vaguely, I wondered if Daryl and Carol had made it back, if they'd been hurt, if they were alive. The thought that something might have happened caused my stomach to clench uncomfortably, but there was nothing I could do about it now. I didn't know where they'd gone, and anyway, I wasn't sticking around any longer than I had to. Rick's threat hung over me like a heavy cloud.

Popping a life-saver in my mouth to stave off the hunger that was already gnawing at my belly, I packed up my bed roll and secured my pack on my back. I headed out not long after that, after doing one more sweep of the store to make sure nothing useful was missed.

I walked down the main street, on high alert for walkers and people alike. If I kept going I knew there would be woods beyond the nearby elementary school. I could disappear into them and keep on roaming until I was too far away to be more than a memory for Rick.

When I finally reached the far west side of the school, I hung a left, and headed straight for the woods beyond. There was something about the building – maybe about knowing what had happened there – that made my neck prickle and burn. I also knew, from what Bob told the rest of us, that there was a group of damned walkers in the building. I stayed low, trying my best not to make a sound as I moved for the relative safety of the trees.

I'd just reached the treeline when I heard the crash of glass. It seemed to be coming from the other side of the building. I froze, trying to listen for the sounds of tearing flesh, or for screams. I heard none. Just a hushed chorus of moans. My grip on my axe tightened. I needed to move.

It was at least an hour before I was forced to take a break. Hunger gnawed at my stomach. I dipped my hand in my pocket for the Luna bar I'd found and took a seat at the base of a tree. I wrestled a bit with the package, then I broke off a piece of the bar before carefully wrapping up the rest and putting it back in my pocket. I raised the bit of food to my lips, just as I heard the snap of twigs up ahead. I stood up quickly, grabbed my pack, and ducked around behind the tree. Something was moving, that was for sure, but I couldn't tell if it was human, animal, or something else entirely. I put the bit of bar back in the pocket of my pack and started moving through the rustling underbrush, heading in an easterly direction.

The noise was coming from the West, and as I moved, I kept one eye looking over my shoulder. I realized what a mistake that was when from my right, a corpse stepped out right into my path from where it had been lurking out of sight. I stopped short, took a few stuttering steps backwards, lost my balance and fell back. The walker chomped its jaw at me, bearing down as it let itself fall forward. I had my axe in my hand, but it was useless without leverage. I screamed. Pushing at the thing and using my knees to try and push the thing away.

I was so sure that it was over. I felt the blackness creeping over my heart, felt the certainty that this would be the end of my undoing, and just as the creature forced its jaw towards the skin of my face and chest and neck, I wondered if I might be lucky and pass out, just so I wouldn't have to feel it tear me apart.

Tear _us_ apart.

Hot tears singed my cheeks as silently I prayed my final goodbye. Then suddenly, a flash of tan, a sharp thudding crack, and pressure lifted off my chest. I heard the smashing of skull and flinched away as rancid fluid hit my face and hand.

I rolled away from it, then scrambled to my knees, snatching my axe as I stood.

"Are you all right?" asked a gentle, concerned voice. I looked up at the person – at the man who'd saved my life. My chest heaved as I fought to catch my breath. He was calm. The man who'd saved my life was calm. I nodded my head.

I swallowed hard, and forced my breath to even and slow. "Thank you," I said, and I meant it. "I'm Laura," I offered.

"Morgan."

He was quiet for a moment and we just watched each other, waiting for whatever was supposed to happen next in situations like this. "Why don't you take a seat? Drink some water," Morgan suggested.

Slowly, and with a furrowing brow I nodded, and then I sat. From my pack I retrieved the two halves of the Luna bar, one still in the packaging. I looked at them both, then up at Morgan and held out the still-wrapped half. "Take it. Please." He watched me, a bit of amusement playing at his lips. Then, he took two steps to me and took the food. He crouched down across from me as I ate my own half.

I felt self-conscious with him watching me. "Are you alone?" he asked.

I didn't like that question. Joe had asked me that question. "Why did you save me, Morgan?" I asked him instead.

At that, he merely smiled gently. "Because all life is precious," he said, in a way that almost made me want to believe the words myself.

* * *

An hour later, Morgan and I were walking in relative silence back to the church. As we approached the school, I signaled him to slow. "That's the school," I whispered. I don't know what it was, but something about this man felt trustworthy to me. The way my tummy fluttered, I also knew I wasn't the only one. I had admitted being alone, told him about how the day before I'd left the group I was with. I told him that the leader, Rick, and I, had not seen eye to eye. That's when he'd told me about his quest. He was looking for a Rick – a man called Rick Grimes who used to be a sheriff's deputy. He had a son named Carl.

After a moment's hesitation I told him I would take him where we'd been – at the church beyond the town. Morgan had grinned, and we'd set off. He was overjoyed to have found me. As we walked I filled him in on the state of the town. "There might be walkers in the streets," I warned. "I heard the glass break just as I went into the woods. When we encountered hardly a one, I started feeling nervous. We arrived at the church to find it overrun by walkers and the doors about to give way. I was horrified at the scene, but Morgan set his jaw and walked across the lot to examine the ground.

I watched him anxiously as he studied what must have been tracks of one sort or another. And then, he bent down and picked up something rectangular off the ground. I glanced quickly behind me, just to be sure behind me was clear, but I focused again on Morgan, who was standing there – reading a _newspaper_?

I grit my teeth and willed him silently to hurry the hell _up_. And finally, he lowered the paper and tucked it away in his clothes. Then, with a wide, happy smile on his face he headed back to me, pausing only to swiftly kill two walkers that, quite literally, crossed his path one after the other.

I straightened as he approached.

"Did you find him?" I asked.

"As a matter of fact, I did."

* * *

 **A/N:** And that's it for Part I! OK, so be honest, how many of you guys thought it was Daryl at first that saved her from the walker in the woods? :P

I'd love to know what you think of the ending and my decision to pair her off with Morgan at the end. For those who asked if Laura will end up in Alexandria, the answer is yes! She just isn't going to get there by following Rick's group. For those who asked if Laura will find her old group, the answer is yes! (Mostly.) She will find everyone from her old group that's still alive and Morgan will help her do it.

But here's where you guys come in and help me decide what to do next. I have a few options - Either Part II of this series will jump straight to Virginia (kind of like season 5 does mid-season), or I can take some time to write out Laura's reunion with her group and the trip from Georgia to Virginia. **Please review and tell me which you would prefer!** Either way, I will not be posting anything set in/near Alexandria until after Season 6 premieres.

Also, I have had a few questions and comments about how Daryl will react once he finds out Laura's missing. That will be addressed and learned about once Laura gets to Virginia, but I am also thinking about writing out a few companion one-shots to the series that show Daryl's, Tara's, and other character's POV of certain events. One companion one-shot is definitely going to be what happens after Daryl returns from Grady and notices Laura's missing. **If there's anything else you'd like to see written out in a companion one-shot, please let me know.**

And of course, a big thank you and sloppy kiss on the cheek to everyone who's read this story. I'm so excited about it and happy to get it out there, so thank you so so much for reading and (hopefully) enjoying!


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